


'Til death does us part

by ShutUp



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: But not in a creepy way, Complete, M/M, Mirror Verse, One Shot, he just killed a lot of people, serial killer!bones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShutUp/pseuds/ShutUp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard McCoy killed five people who were disloyal to him. </p><p>They had it coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Til death does us part

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a mirror verse!AU McKirk story in which Bones killed people; the murders he's guilty off are based on the song Cell Blog Tango from the musical Chicago. 
> 
> Special thanks to Simili, who helped me get through the end!

The sky is a gray, dark mask, clouds holding the sticky hot summer air near the earth, as if trying to suffocate humanity. The huge building with its high windows looks kind of nice from the outside; made of steal and metal it holds the halls of justice within. Usually the entrance is busy but controlled but not at this fine day, oh no: people move up and down the stairs like crazed animals, chattering, screaming, somewhere a woman is talking in a high pitched voice of panic. They're all here to see a man fall or rise, to hear the judge announce guilt or innocence but they can't get in further into the building anymore.

They're not allowed in because the hall where the trial is held is already full. Reporters, military representatives, the families of the victims are all wedged together, a serious man with an unmovable face towering over them.

 _The human impulse to watch another's humiliation is an astonishing thing,_ Jim Kirk thinks. He has luck to attend the trial, to be there in person. He asked Pike a favor to get him in and the Admiral had made it possible (Jim would have to pay for it later, he was sure, but it might be worth it).

Here he is only a bystander, in no way involved in the actions that took place. He has no relations to the crying widows and widowers, sisters, brothers, parents, children nor does he know the convict. Oh, he has heard of the man, the doctor who has gone crazy and who slaughtered too many innocent lives for it to go unnoticed but Jim has never seen him in person. That's why he is here; a man like Leonard McCoy, the way he was described in the newspapers, has to be interesting. Jim has to see him because he has to know if the man has gone insane or if he is insane; is he a case for a mental hospital or could he be taken? The pictures of McCoy which Jim has seen had shown him a grumpy but attractive man. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the articles spoke of a crazy mind. 

The introduction is already over and the prosecutor has had his speech as well; the evidence is heavy and obvious and everything is pointing at the man in question. The man who hasn't been brought in yet because he is too dangerous to be around people for too long. Leonard McCoy, as it is stated, is in a small room, chained up securely, next to the hall and listening to every word that is officially said.

Jim begins to fidget. He has a seat in the front rows with one of the best views but it's no use if the object of his interest is behind a closed door. He hopes that McCoy is brought out for his own defense, and after several minutes of discussions and tension, his hopes are fulfilled. The door to the right side of the judge is opened and four guards surround one man.

Jim stretches his neck even if he can already see everything. 

There he is: Doctor Leonard McCoy. The man's hair is brown and ruffled, slightly too long (it would fly in the wind), and his eyes are surprising. Jim can't pinpoint their color, it might be a green, or brown, or amber, he can't tell. What he can tell is that those eyes look smug. Knowing. Sure of themselves. McCoy is brought to the stand, has to swear to only say the truth, and then sits down. He wears a gray shirt, gray trousers and Jim thinks that they have to be horribly uncomfortable. He also wonders what the fuss is all about, a pang of disappointment going through his stomach, because McCoy looks like the definition of sane. His hands and feet are cuffed and he is hot but he looks... like a normal citizen.

What follows are boring questions asked by the lawyer who defends McCoy and Jim is thinking about leaving. The answers are short and to the point; Jim shivers at the sound of that raspy, warm drawl, a voice to die for but it seems that the doc isn't what Jim's looking for.

McCoy's facial expressions are minimal and controlled. He's hiding behind a mask, Jim can tell.  
When the defender is done, the prosecutor starts the cross-questioning and first it's normal, but then suddenly it's not anymore.

“They had it coming,” McCoy says calmly, steady but shocked gasps go through the rows.  
“Excuse me?” The defender looks pale, disbelief on his face.  
“They. Had. It. Coming.” McCoy repeats slowly, sounding slightly amused.  
Of course the lawyer jumps at it and it's obvious that that wasn't one of those thought through answers. “That's why you did it, Doctor McCoy? That's your motive?”

McCoy's whole pose shifts and all of a sudden he looks dangerous, a gleam in his eyes.

“You know how people have these little habits that get you down? Like Marie. Marie liked to chew gum,” McCoy says, laughter in his voice but also dislike, a bitter sound forming around the name of his first victim, “Ah but no, not chew: Pop!” He shakes his head.

“Well, one day I come home and I'm really tired, irritated and looking for a little bit of sympathy. And there's Marie, laying' on the couch, drinking a coke and, chewin',” Suddenly his amused voice drops lower and the next words come out with a growl, “No, not chewin', _poppin'_!”

“So I said to her, I said 'You pop that gum _one more time'_ ,” He continues, a dangerous satisfaction visible in the way he pronounces every word, and he sighs, “And she did.” It's completely silent in the hall because they never have gotten any kind of confession out of this man, not until now, apparently.

“I left her there and went to the bedroom. I took her father's shotgun from the wall and I fired two warning shots,” a small pause, “Into her head.” McCoy says with a singsong voice and the silence turns into chaos when the family of the victim bursts. The father jumps up, screaming, furious punching around and threatening to kill McCoy himself. It takes three guards to remove the man from the hall and about ten minutes for everything to calm down again.

Jim's eyes never left McCoy who is sitting on the chair, chuckling to himself.

When the prosecutor steps in front of the stand a second time, McCoy is calm again, collected, and waits for the next question. The lawyer looks to the judge for a split second and the man nods so they carry on.

“So you killed Marie Chevalier. But what's about Richard Cotton?”

Jim can see how the doctor leans back in his chair, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side and then in a circle. He takes his time, waits for the tension to grow. Jim approves.

“I met Richard Cotton from Virginia about two years ago. He told me he was single, and we hit it off right away. So, we started living together, he'd go to work, he'd come home, I'd fix him a drink, we'd have _dinner_ ,” McCoy tells (and the way he says dinner it's obvious that he means sex) and Jim can feel how another family's rage rises. He smirks.

“Then I found out, single he told me; single, my ass!” Here his voice slowly raises and the clunk of the cuffs on his hands, being moved, is the only sound in the hall, “Not only was he married, oh no. He had six wives; one of those Mormons, you know,” He shrugs at the prosecutor as if they're buddies, “So that night, when he came home from work, I fixed him his drink, as usual.” The devilish gleam returns into McCoy's eyes and Jim feels the hair on his arms rise.

“You know,” he repeats, leaning forwards to the prosecutor, “some guys just can't hold their arsenic.” His voice sounds accusatory, every word an insult, but amusement written all over McCoy's face. Jim feels how his own sympathy for this man grows.

This time a woman breaks down crying, and two other try to attack McCoy but are stopped by the guards. Jim counts six woman with metaphorical thunder clouds over their faces and in the end they all have to be escorted out of the hall. The judge's face looks horrified but also calm when he knocks on his table, demanding silence once again, to continue.

“And Robert Harries? Did you murder him as well?” The prosecutor, pale as chalk, asks. McCoy answers with a loud laugh, breaking through the tense people like a bullet.

“Oh yeah,” He chuckles, “I stood in the kitchen, cutting vegetables for dinner, minding my own business,” McCoy's voice is low and intimate, “when in storms Robert in jealous rage. 'You've been screwin' the admiral' he says, he was _crazy_ , and he kept screaming 'You've been screwin' the admiral!'” At this his voice gets slightly higher, hysterical and Jim looks to the seat next to him in which a young man sits, obviously struggling. His face is an ugly mask of hatred and Jim guesses it's the brother of Robert Harris (THE Robert Harris, the famous Captain, Jim had met him once).

“Then he ran into my knife,” McCoy continues, again sounding easy, as if telling an amusing story to his friends, “He ran into my knife ten times.”

The man next to Jim jumps up and right over the railing and is next to McCoy, throttling the man before anyone can do anything. He's quickly dragged away, screaming like the other men before, and Jim's smirk grows and grows. When he turns his attention back to McCoy though the doctor is looking at him. There's curiosity in his eyes and Jim waves slightly, a movement McCoy mirrors a second later. He didn't expect to attract McCoy's attention here but apparently he did. Jim raises and eyebrow and nods, the action only seen by McCoy and himself.

Before the prosecutor can talk again, the murderer starts all by himself: “Abigail Balea and I worked together in a research facility for vaccinations and my wife, Jocelyn sometimes traveled around with us when we attended medical exhibitions,” Jim crosses his legs and rests his arms on them, giving McCoy a smile, his head slightly cocked to the side, when he notices that the man is still looking at him.

“We were famous since we discovered a few cures no one before us had. We held a speech; witty, funny, engaging, always having to interact with benefactors. Well, this one night, we were down at the hotel, the three of us, boozin' and havin' a few laughs,” Compared to before McCoy's voice doesn't sound light but pressed, dark, and Jim knows he's actually pissed at the memory, it's real anger he sees, “And we run out of ice so I went out to get some. I come back, open the door and there's Abigail and Jocelyn...” McCoy trails off, his eyes fixed on Jim's face. 

Jim sees the white knuckles, the fists restraining the doctor from bursting. He doesn't blink, stares right back; his own posture relaxed and after a few moments the judge asks, “And?” and McCoy downright spits his next words to their feet: “They were having their fun, being witty, fucking each other with half the hotel furniture. I was in such a state of shock, I completely blacked out, I can't remember a thing. It wasn't until later when I was washing their blood off my hands I even knew they were _dead_ ,” McCoy's jaw clenches and his eyes burn holes into Jim's skull but he still doesn't look away. He's impressed; the doctor has killed a few, Jim had known that but hearing him say it is a different thing altogether.

Jim can't ignore the fact though that all of the murders contain a certain motive, a certain similarity. McCoy apparently is a loyal spirit, and punishes the ones who aren't loyal to him. Jim likes the man and he decides that yes, Leonard McCoy would make an excellent CMO.

It's silent again, except for the sound of a weeping woman in the background. The prosecutor looks beaten, his face flushed red with concentration. Again, he steps in front of McCoy; he has trouble breathing and he's wretched. McCoy gives him a raised eyebrow and a derogatory look.

“I loved Wesley Mitchell more than I could possibly say. He was a real artistic guy,” McCoy starts off, his voice a whisper, and his eyes wander to the ceiling, reveling in memories, “Sensitive, a painter. But he was always trying to find himself,” The doctor sighs, as if it was real tragedy, “He would go out every night looking for himself and on the way, he found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary and Irving.” The names fall out of McCoy's mouth, feeling like venom, and Jim thinks they sound like a hit list.

McCoy's voice is mocking and a little louder when he says: “I guess you can say we broke up because of artistic differences,” His lips tremble and Jim feels the tension grow again. Everyone in the room is focused on the murder, the convict, the crazy doctor.

“He saw himself as alive,” McCoy pauses, lick his lips, grins, “and I saw him _dead_.” This time, no family member stands up in rage or breaks down; the silence holds on. McCoy's eyes are glittering and it's obvious that he doesn't regret a thing.

“They had it coming, and they only have themselves to blame. They betrayed me, and if you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, if you'd have heard it, I betcha you would have done the same,” McCoy's hands are interlaced and he looks bitter but self-confident, “They used me, and they abused me, and broke my trust; it was murder but not a crime,” He continues, his voice firm, sure and Jim can hear the gasps in the hall, “They had it coming, and I said I didn't do it, but I did it, and how can you tell me that I was wrong?” 

A murmur grows loud and louder and then someone yells “Guilty!” and a turmoil breaks loose. Several people try to pass the railing and get to McCoy again but the guards had enough; they stun the persistent ones, beat down the others, and drag them out of the hall. Jim follows them with his gaze and he knows that McCoy's life is in danger. Over, actually, even if not through the hand of a loving family member practicing self-justice.

The judge ends the trial with a knock of his hammer (a ridiculous way to do so, Jim thinks) and retreats into his back chambers to decide McCoy's fate. Most of the people are gone; the families are outside, awaiting justice, and a few reporters join them. Small groups chatter over the confession but Jim quickly realizes that it's set, in their eyes. McCoy is guilty, and he's gonna be sentenced to death.

McCoy himself is still sitting in the stand, four guards around him. He looks satisfied, content. Jim stands up, his golden uniform fitting perfectly. He doesn't leave the hall, and catches the doc's eyes one last time before he moves around the railing. A guard comes to stop him but Jim shows him the ID card Pike has given him (“It will help you get through every door you want to get through,” he had said) and without knocking, he enters the judge's rooms.

The man turns around, stunned by Jim's presence and wants to say something when Jim pulls his phaser on him. 

“He's innocent.” Jim says and for a moment confusion is on the judge's facial structures but it quickly vanishes and is replaced by anger.  
“Who do you thi-” Jim moves quickly and doesn't wait to punch the judge (a man around sixty, over weighted, red-faced, probably high blood pressure) in the face. The man stumbles and falls on his table, making a sound of pain and fear. He flinches away when Jim steps closer, phaser pressing against the man's neck.

“He's innocent,” Jim repeats, “Isn't he?”

~

_San Francisco Chronicle, 2259, 25th June_

**NOT GUILTY!**

“[...]After throughout consideration the Judge Williams announced the man which kept San Francisco in suspense over the past weeks, Doctor Leonard H. McCoy, as NOT guilty.  
The reasons for his decision are unknown but it's final, the case is closed and to not be opened again. When asked he stated that new evidence came up and justice once again overruled.  
That Doctor McCoy had confessed the murders just thirty minutes before didn't seem to be important[...]”

~

“CMO, huh.” McCoy says, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that James T. Kirk, Captain of the ISS Enterprise, has saved his ass a few weeks prior. He stands in his new office, located in sickbay, and he looks around. It's boring and simple but he thinks he can get to like it. It's better then spending a few months in a cell and then being escorted to his death.

He doesn't know how Kirk got his way but he's sure it involved violence and blackmailing, and two days ago, McCoy was released, with the words that he was NOT to return to earth or he would be shot at sight. He got away with his life and he isn't too sentimental about leaving earth. Sure, space is hell; disease and danger, wrapped in darkness and silence, but it isn't too bad. He gets to work as a doctor. He gets to have a little fun here and there, tricking, torturing and enjoining the fact that he is feared upon the ISS Enterprise.

He hears a cough behind him and when he turns, he sees Jim standing in the door frame, the first time since the trial. Leonard has heard who has freed him but he hasn't had a chance to thank the kid yet.

Jim eyes him, blatantly checking him out, ogling and Leonard snorts, “no,” and shakes his head.

“You owe me, McCoy, I saved your life.” Jim says and comes closer but McCoy only growls at him, annoyed. “I don't owe you shit because as far as I remember I didn't ask you to save my ass.”

“Well, you seemed a little bit helpless anyway, you should be thanking me.” The blond man draws even closer, close enough to touch McCoy but doesn't.

“You shouldn't lay your hands on me, Kirk,” Leonard starts, straightening his shoulders, “Not unless you have a specific location for me to bury your bones when you cheat because I know you would. You're not satisfied with a lot of something, or a little of everything; you need all of it. And if you want me, Kirk,” McCoy leans forward, his breath ghosting over Kirk's neck, “It's just me, until death does us part.”

They had it coming.


End file.
